


Stayed up with you all night

by EmmaArthur



Series: Whumptober 2019 [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex Whump, Alex needs a hug, Canon Disabled Character, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Isobel needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Season/Series 01, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Though technically the whump doesn't happen in this story, Whumptober 2019, mentions of malex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 05:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20869013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaArthur/pseuds/EmmaArthur
Summary: Isobel stays the night at Alex's, and Alex has a nightmare.





	Stayed up with you all night

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober day 2: **Explosion**. 
> 
> This is also the third fic in my series Lines of Fear and Blame where Alex and Isobel become friends by working through their PTSD together.
> 
> [PTSD, flashbacks, dissociation, nightmares, mentions of explosions, mentions of injuries and war]

“Do you think I could crash here tonight? I don't think I can face the house, and Max is at his with Liz, so−”

Alex looks up, stilling his hand on Ksenya's head at his side. He and Isobel have been sitting in his living room for most of the afternoon, talking. It's Sunday, just over a week since he slept over at her house, and they haven't seen each other since until she called today. Alex's last week at the base−he's now officially discharged−has been hectic.

He planned for a whole weekend of resting in his cabin and seeing absolutely no one. He still has a lot of work to do with the data from Caulfield, but he doesn't think his body can handle another weekend of sitting at a computer, and he is sure his mind can't take anymore surveillance videos of alien torture.

He is tired. So goddamn tired. He hasn't gotten proper rest in weeks−since Caulfield, his mind whispers. That's why he asked Isobel to come here today, because he couldn't be bothered to put on his prosthetic and drive all the way into town.

“Oh, so I'm the backup dorm room, uh?” Neither of them has gone to college, so it's not as funny as it could be. Isobel cocks her head, and Alex shakes his. “Sure. My couch is yours,” he gestures to the couch Isobel is sitting on. “Unless you want to try the cellar bed.”

“You have a cellar bed?”

“Don't even ask,” Alex rolls his eyes. He's going to get rid of it, once he has Rosa's permission. Except he still hasn't actually talked to Rosa, and he can't get that bed out on his own anyway.

“You have any food around here? I'll make dinner,” Isobel offers, like a compensation for asking to sleep over.

“You don't have to,” Alex says.

“I'm imposing myself on you and you're in pain. Just let me.”

“Fine.” Alex doesn't ask how Isobel knows he's in pain. Despite his efforts, it must show on his face, and she's watched him pop pills earlier. That's not even touching on the fact that his prosthetic is still propped by his bed and he's barely left the armchair all day. “There should be pasta and tomato sauce somewhere. Try the second cabinet on the left.”

Hearing Isobel take out pans and utensils, Alex tries to relax and not jump at every noise. It's been hard, since Caulfield. He thought he had it under control, that the worst part of his PTSD were finally gone, but it turns out that it was just hiding, waiting for the opportunity to come out again.

He breathes in and out, slowly, until his heart rate goes back down to an acceptable speed. A pan crashes against something and he jumps again. _Nothing's happening_, he repeats in his mind. _Everything's fine. _The pain in his leg is just pain, not a metal beam pressing down on his foot. He bites on his tongue hard, until he can taste blood.

Isobel is suddenly in front of him with two bowls of meatless bolognese pasta and frowning at his lack of reaction. It must have been twenty minutes at least, if the pasta is ready, but Alex didn't see it pass. He extends a hand to take a bowl.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice rougher than he'd like.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just got lost in thoughts.”

Isobel nods, still frowning. She goes to sit back onto the couch, crossing her legs. “I didn't bother to set a table,” she says.

“It's good,” Alex replies curtly, finding the words difficult to speak.

Isobel stares at him for a moment. “I tried to get your attention twice,” she says slowly. “Were you dissociating? Is that what it looks like from the outside?”

Alex glares at his bowl. “Maybe. I don't know.”

“Oh, I shouldn't be pestering you with questions, should I?” Isobel realizes. “I know talking is hard, after. And I'm always so tired. I should just leave you alone. Or maybe not? It's good to have someone here, right?”

Alex thinks vaguely that he should be annoyed at her rambling, but it grounds him in a way he didn't expect. She's not wrong, it's good to have someone with him, someone who understands. Someone who might even not hold it against him later, though his brain's flight response insists that he can now never be safe with Isobel. She's seen his weakness.

But then, he's seen hers, too.

He waves vaguely, trying to convey without words that he doesn't want her to go.

“Okay, okay, I'm not moving,” Isobel nods, at the corner of his eyes. He still hasn't brought himself to look at her. “Do you want me to shut up?”

She sounds like a little girl, saying that, eager to do good and inexperienced. Alex almost laughs, despite the fact that the world feels like the wrong end of a kaleidoscope right now. He shakes his head and tries to take deep breaths.

“No? Alright. Your pasta's going to be cold, but I can reheat it later when you're ready to eat. Mine, too. But you should probably put the bowl down.”

Alex focuses on his bowl. His hands are unreliable, not quite shaky but weak, and the bowl is in fact about to topple. Alex sets it down on the coffee table, clumsily, too fast and too hard. He jumps at the noise, but it doesn't kickstart another episode. In fact, it's like it wakes him up, lifting some of the haze.

“There,” Isobel says. “Now do you want to lie down?”

“I'm good,” Alex mutters. Talking is easier, a little. He looks up at Isobel. “Sorry.”

“Don't be. Just tell what you need.”

“Sleep, probably,” Alex laughs self-deprecatingly. “But right now pasta sounds good.”

He tries hard not to think about it too much for the rest of the night, as they eat and then read together for a while, avoiding any heavy subject. Isobel tries a little too hard to act like nothing happened, once she catches on that it's what he's trying to do, and he has to convince himself again that she doesn't suddenly think him weak and worthless. At least no more than before, his brain whispers. But she smiles and laughs and thanks him again for letting her stay, and at least it means he's useful, doesn't it?

Several hours later, Alex wakes up screaming, his mind full of fire and smoke.

He can't even say that he didn't expect it. He prayed his nightmares would give him a respite tonight, with Isobel in the next room, but with the episode earlier, he didn't hold out too much hope. So he sighs, his heart still beating a staccato, when Isobel timidly knocks on his bedroom door, and he calls her in.

The sheets are tangled around him, stuck to his skin with sweat, but at least he slept in boxers and a tee-shirt. “I'm alright,” he says before Isobel asks.

She shakes her head and comes over to sit on the edge of the bed. She somehow manages to look good ever with a bedhead, but her eyes are heavy with sleep.

“Nightmare?” she asks.

Alex nods. “Didn't mean to wake you up.”

“You didn't,” Isobel says. “I don't sleep well either.”

“We could work on that,” Alex offers. “There are techniques−”

“Which are obviously not working so well for you,” Isobel interrupts him. “This isn't about me. Not this time.”

“I'm fine,” Alex mutters.

“Alex, talk to me. Please. We've been talking for weeks, but it's almost all been about me.”

“You're the one who needed to work through stuff,” Alex shrugs.

“I know I came to you for help, at first, but what I really need is a friend,” Isobel says, looking him straight in the eyes. “And I've been told friendship is supposed to go both ways.”

“Isobel, you have too much on your plate to deal with my baggage, too,” Alex answers.

She shifts on the bed. “And you don't?”

“I don't mind.”

“Then neither do I. Now tell me what that nightmare was about.”

Alex almost smiles at her bluntness. She's trying too hard, once again. Alex isn't sure Isobel has ever had any real friend of her own, and she doesn't know how to do it. But he relents.

“Did Michael tell you about what happened at Caulfield?” he asks.

“Yes,” Isobel nods. “Of course. They were our family.”

“Yeah”, Alex hangs his head. “I'm sorry.”

“So am I. But don't change the subject.”

“Fine,” Alex sighs. He takes a deep breath, focusing on Isobel's face rather than the images going through his mind. “We barely got out before it exploded. Michael−” he waves a hand. “He didn't want to leave them there. But there was nothing we could do.”

“Is that what you dream about?” Isobel asks.

“Yeah. No. Sort of. It gets mixed up with my...injury. In Iraq.”

“Where you lost your leg?”

At least she doesn't beat around the bush, Alex thinks appreciatively. Gauging Isobel's responses is a good way to distract himself from the fact that he's laying himself bare. Or from the fire dancing behind his eyelids.

“It was a booby-trapped building,” he says. “We were checking it out and it just exploded all around us. The ceiling came down on me and trapped me there.”

“You were trapped inside?” Isobel asks, her eyes widening.

“Yeah. Two guys in my unit were right beside me, and they didn't make it. I waited...I don't know. They told me that rescue didn't come for seventeen hours, but I was in and out. My leg was pinned down and the blood flow was cut, so it couldn't be saved.”

“My God,” Isobel murmurs. “Well, I get why you have nightmares, at least.”

Alex snorts at her bluntness. “I'm glad my trauma passes your seriousness test,” he says dryly.

“Was that too soon?” Isobel raises her eyebrows.

“Coming from anyone else−”

Isobel battles her eyelashes. “I know I'm too pretty to do wrong, Alex, you don't need to remind me,” she smirks.

Alex actually laughs, and it loosens some of the heaviness in his chest.

“More seriously,” Isobel starts, “I don't want this to be a one-way relationship. I asked you for help, but I never expected it to develop into...whatever this is, and it can't be just you helping with without getting anything in return. I want you to be able to rely on me, too.”

Alex nods, biting his lip. “It would be okay, if it was just me helping you, you know? Sometimes we can need help and not be able to give it back.”

“Yeah, but...if I really wanted that, I could find a shrink. I mean, it would be hard to tell them everything, but I could at least talk about some things. I'm not looking for a shrink. I'm looking for a friend.”

“Then I will gladly be your friend, Isobel Evans,” Alex says with a smile.

“How did you get Michael to leave?” Isobel asks much later, when they've both showered, since neither of them felt like going back to sleep, and she is making breakfast.

Alex looks up from his laptop, where he is checking his emails. “What?”

“What did you tell him to get him to leave? I know my brother, he's a stubborn jackass. He'd have gotten himself blown up.

Alex swallows. “I told him he was my family,” he says.

“What did he say?”

“That he didn't love me. At the time...he said it to get me to leave, because the building was going to explode. I keep trying to remind myself of that, that he didn't really think it, but...”

Isobel plants herself in front of him, forcing Alex to look up even further. “You're having doubts.”

“How can I not? He's been...he stood me up, and I get why, I get that it was the worst timing, but he never came. And now he's with Maria.”

Isobel sighs. “Look, I don't know what goes through that thick head of his. Deciding to date DeLuca of all people, right after what happened, it's...fucked up. But there's one thing I do know.”

“What's that?” Alex asks.

“He _loves _you. And before really knowing you, I would have, I did, sort of, encourage him to move on, because he's been pining after you for ten years, and despite what Max might say, I don't think that's very healthy. But you love him just as much, don't you?”

Alex averts his eyes.

“Look, I am _not_ going to give you relationship advice, given how my last relationship with an alien ended−”

“What, you're not going to write _10 ways to score a date with a murderous mind-controlling alien?_” Alex smirks.

“Haha, very funny. Anyway, Michael may be an alien, but he's not, as you put it, a mind-controlling murderer. Ew,” Isobel shudders. “Said like that, it's really gross.”

“You didn't know,” Alex says.

“But I did love him. And I missed it for years. How did I miss it?”

“He was a really good liar.”

Isobel rolls her eyes. “I suppose. But Michael isn't Noah, and he loves you, so he'll come around eventually. That said, it doesn't mean you have to wait for him.”

“So I should do what?” Alex asks, an edge of sarcasm in his voice. “Run after him?”

“Again, not giving you advice! But I meant get on with your life. Get to a place where you feel stable and sure. Live for yourself, not for him.”

Alex stares up at her for a long moment, until his neck hurts from the position. This isn't at all what he expected Isobel to say, and it strikes him. _Live for yourself_. Is he really just surviving, waiting for Michael? He's been surviving since he came back, if he's honest. No, he's been surviving his whole life. He doesn't know how to start living.

Much less living for himself.

Isobel gives up on waiting for an answer and sits down brusquely. “If Michael is your family, does that make me your sister?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

Alex shakes himself. “Why do you think I invited you here?” he banters back. “You think I let any half-stranger sleep on my couch?”

“I don't know. You're a mysterious man, Alex Manes.”

Alex laughs. Isobel beams at him. They can be good friends, he thinks. Maybe they can help each other feel a little less alone in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! As always, I would be overjoyed to hear your thoughts :)


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